


Distractions

by red_crate



Series: Gift Fics [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Kneeling, Light Choking, M/M, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: He sits back and holds Stiles’s gaze for a long moment. The tense line of his boy’s shoulders slowly relax under his stare, and Chris smiles.“What are we going to do?” Stiles asks quietly before his eyes briefly drop to Chris’s lap.He’s already half hard in response to Stiles’s obedience and beauty. Chris’s smile spreads just the same as his thighs when he lifts his hips up teasingly. “You need something else to concentrate on, don’t you?”





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Withmoore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withmoore/gifts).



> This is a very overdue fic for a very sweet person. I hope you enjoy it, Withmoore!
> 
> A note on the underage drinking and the choking: both happen once.

Chris walks back into the living room with his beer to find Stiles still sitting on the floor as he works on his homework. The TV is on, volume low, and he’s got one earbud in where it’s plugged into his phone. Chris can hear the tinny sound of music pouring from the small speakers. He watches his boy shift so one knee is up and Stiles’s back is hunched forward as he chews on his lip. 

The anxiousness apparent in Stiles propels Chris forward, needing to do something to ease him. When his fingers card through Stiles’s hair, his boy tips his head back easily and looks up at Chris with a stressed smile. 

“Sorry, not the most entertaining company right now.” Those beautiful brown eyes slip closed when Chris massages the tips of his fingers along his scalp. “Thanks for letting me hang out.”

“Stiles.” Chris murmurs with a mild disappointment in his voice. “You have no reason to apologise. I love it when you spend time here.”

“I know. It’s just...this essay is kicking my butt.” Stiles rests the back of his head against Chris’s leg, looking back up at him. 

Chris nods his head. “You’ve been working hard.” He trails his fingertips along the shag of Stiles’s hair to push it back from his forehead. “I think you deserve a break. Come on.”

His boy is eager for the distraction and scrambles onto this knees to stand, but Chris pushes him down gently. “Like this,” Chris says before stepping back to sit on the couch. “Come here.”

Stiles’s lips part slightly, and he shuffles closer on his knees and settles on his heels between Chris’s shins. His hands automatically go behind his back, and Chris knows he’s clasping them together like he was trained, perfectly. 

He sits back and holds Stiles’s gaze for a long moment. The tense line of his boy’s shoulders slowly relax under his stare, and Chris smiles. 

“What are we going to do?” Stiles asks quietly before his eyes briefly drop to Chris’s lap. 

He’s already half hard in response to Stiles’s obedience and beauty. Chris’s smile spreads just the same as his thighs when he lifts his hips up teasingly. “You need something else to concentrate on, don’t you?”

When his boy nods vigorously, Chris slowly palms himself through his jeans. He runs his thumb along the growing length of his cock and watches Stiles stay completely still. “Do you want this, baby?” 

Stiles’s breath catches, and his eyes widen.

“You can have it now, with your mouth, or you can wait.” He continues slowly dragging his thumb up and down the bulge in his jeans because it feels good and because he wants to see how far he can push his boy tonight.

“What do I get if I wait?” It's a smart question, one that makes Chris inwardly smile. Stiles shifts on his knees, the only outward indicator of his impatience. 

Chris leans forward and cups the back of Stiles’s head with the hand he’d just been using on himself. He brings their foreheads together. “You’ll have to wait and see.” He brushes a kiss against the corner of his boy’s mouth, knowing just how infuriating the vague promise is.

When he sits back, Stiles wets his lips and takes a slow breath. He nods once. “I will wait.” His nostrils flare, eyes bright.

Fodness washes through Chris all over again.

“Let’s just stay like this for a bit, then.” Chris carefully guides Stiles’s head to his knee and pets his hair. “Let's get you settled, so I know where you're at.”

The tension in Stiles's body slowly bleeds out as seconds tick by. Chris continues running his fingers methodically across Stiles's scalp as he nurses his beer and decides just what he wants for the night. There are so many options, including the plan he'd had when Stiles first texted to ask if he could come over. That one is tabled for now, because it isn't what his boy needs. 

Stiles goes lax, taking a little longer than Chris had hoped--but not unexpectedly longer--against him. His hands, however, stay clasped behind his back perfectly. Chris gazes down at him with a soft smile on his lips before he takes second to last swig of beer.

“Up,” he commands, hooking a finger under Stiles's chin until the boy sits up. His eyes are a little unfocused, but he looks at Chris with every bit of concentration he has. “Drink.”

When Chris tips the lip of the bottle against his mouth, Stiles's opens up easily and moves with the insistence of the glass as Chris carefully pours the last ounce of beer. Chris pulls the bottle back too soon, purposely to watch the liquid dribble down Stiles's bottom lip and chin. He drags the damp rim of the bottle away, making sure it catches Stiles's bottom lip, pulling it down enough that his teeth show for a moment. 

After he sets the bottle aside, Chris pushes to his feet, pleased when Stiles sits up straight in response. It brings his hips eye level with Stiles. For a brief moment, he thinks about unzipping his jeans and feeding his cock into the furnace of his boy's mouth. 

Instead,  he holds out his hand and says, “Come with me, baby,” voice quiet. 

Once to his feet, Stiles leans bodily once more against Chris. “Are you going to carry me?” Under any other circumstances, Chris knows Stiles soul be making fun of him. Right now, Stiles is merely asking a question. 

He doesn't answer, hadn't planned on anything as elaborate as that, but with Stiles, he has better learned to throw himself into the moment. Chris turns and sweeps Stiles up in a bridal carry that shocks a pleased noise out of his boy. The strain of his back and shoulders is nothing much to be worried about, especially when Stiles is melting against his chest and wrapping an arm around his neck. 

In the bedroom, Chris sets Stiles down on the unmade mattress before directing him to lie back with a suggestive push to his chest. Stiles is still in the outfit he wore to school earlier: skinny jeans, Star Wars tee, blue and gray plaid shirt, and unzipped hoodie on top of that. His bare feet kick against the edge of the bed however; Chris grabs one and pulls Stiles's leg up so his foot rests on his thigh. 

He just needs to touch him.

“You were so good for me,” he praises as he sweeps his thumb along the arch of Stiles's foot. “You feeling good now? Relaxed. Yeah,” he doesn't wait for the confirmation of Stiles slowly smiling up at him, “You're feeling it already.”

Stiles's neck flushes, and the color creeps up his cheeks. “I get something now.” The way he says it like it's fact, something settled, makes Chris growl quietly and drag his blunt nails down the top of Stiles's foot. “Please,” Stiles breathes the amendment and tacts on, “Daddy.”

He's a little shit that knows just as well how to push Chris's buttons as Chris knows him. It only serves to make him want him more, give in when he knows he could easily punish his boy for the slight provocation. Tonight, however, he wants something else.

“It's a good thing I like that you're only so sweet for me.” Chris leans down so that Stiles has to choose between spreading his legs and letting him in or pushing Chris away with his foot.

Stiles's leg drops immediately, and his mouth is lush when Chris kisses it. 

He amends his confession. “Maybe not such a good thing. You make me soft.” He smiles, however, so Stiles knows he's only teasing, before nuzzling his chin and mouth against Stiles's sensitive skin. 

Stiles plants his heels on the bed and slides a hand between them until he's barely touching where Chris is aching with desire. His breath is warm when it washes across the side of his neck. “Don't seem soft to me.” 

Chris can't help the chuckle that escapes him, but he nips at Stiles's jaw before pulling back. “Not when it counts,” he smirks. 

Stiles swallows when Chris wraps a wide palm around the front of his throat. He just holds his hand there, feeling the rabbit kick of Stiles's pulse against his calloused skin. It isn't punishment, but it's a gentle reminder. 

“You're so fucking beautiful.” The words feel like they're being ripped from him, impossible to deny the truth even if he wanted. Stiles whines thinly and tips his head back in invitation. 

Chris tightens his grip little by little until Stiles is choking when he tries to swallow again. His skin turns steadily pinker. “Beautiful,” Chris whispers again as he releases his hold just as slowly. 

Tears prick at the corners of Stiles's eyes, making them glimmer in the light of the lamp. He stays still on the bed, limp as he looks up at Chris with total want, all amusement pushed from his features for the moment. The white print if Chris's hand turns red when he readjusts so his hand rests at the base of his neck, lightly

“Ask.” Chris commands, making his voice firm.

“Please touch me.” His boy's voice is a little rough from the abuse. 

Chris rubs his fingers along the artery in Stiles's neck. “I am.” 

A dark thrill runs through Chris when Stiles closes his eyes and takes a steady breath before rewording his request. “Please give me what I need. Whatever you want. I need it, Daddy.” The words are dripping with desire as Stiles turns his head away, mild humiliation thrumming through him at laying himself bare. 

No matter how often Chris gets to have him like this, every single time is perfect and everything he craves. 

“Good boy.” Chris skims his hand down the column of Stiles's throat once before he sits up to kneel between his legs. “Arms up. Just lie there for me.”

Stiles, ever kinetic, stills completely at the command once his hands are clasped around his wrists above his head. “Good.” Chris drags his gaze over him, head to toe, and Stiles breathes unsteadily as if just that is enough to push him to the edge. 

The strip of bared skin between the top of Stiles's jeans and his shirt catches Chris's attention. Stiles's stomach is concave like this, raising and falling quickly and his hips bow out enough to provide a sliver of space between denim and flesh. 

Chris works his fingers there, hooking them under the hem as he makes quick work of the fly of Stiles's jeans. The material is stretchy and tight, and Chris has a moment where he wishes he could just cut the jeans off. But it's not practical when Stiles refuses to let Chris buy him anything more expensive than a good dinner. He finally gets the jeans peeled down Stiles's legs and yanks them off his ankles, tossing them away disdainfully.

Once Stiles's legs are free, they splay open obscenely.  The front of his briefs has a translucent patch where he's been leaking, cock pushing against the confines. 

“Pretty,” Chris comments as he runs his hands up the insides of Stiles's thighs and pushes them farther apart. He digs his fingers into the flesh at the top of his legs. Stiles's cock jerks. 

“Please.” Stiles stays still, but his knuckles are turning white with the restraint he's obviously using to keep from moving. 

Chris rubs his hands over his thighs soothingly, “Remember your safeword?” When Stiles says,  _ ‘yes’ _ , he continues, “Good boy.” He moves until he’s propped above Stiles, hands planted either side of his boy’s extended arms. “I'm going to undress you, and wreck you with my mouth before I fuck you until you can't remember how to do anything but take it.” Chris tells him simply, already imagining it and preparing himself. He drags his gaze over Stiles’s face, and says, “You do not come until I tell you.” 

Stiles drops his mouth open for a moment before saying anything.. His lips are red and shining. “Yes, Daddy,” he says.

“That's right.” Chris hooks his hand around the back of Stiles's neck and pulls him up, sinking in the complete control Stiles has given him. He kisses his boy on the crown, making sure he's steady, before he gently guides Stiles's arms down so he can slip the hoodie and flannel off  his shoulders. 

Sitting there in nothing but a dirty pair of briefs and his Star Wars shirt, Stiles looks debauched already. His skin is damp with sweat and his hair is a mess. Chris has to slow himself down when he gets rid of the tee as well. Miles of skin, dotted with all those little moles that Chris has already spent hours mapping. He could draw his tongue over Stiles's flesh for the rest of his life and still not be tired of it, of his boy. 

“Look at you, gorgeous. “ Chris purs the words out. He frames Stiles's warm cheeks with both hands so he has no choice but to meet Chris's eyes. “You're perfect.” 

Stiles is perfect, but he's not comfortable being told so, unable to believe it to the core just as much as he desperately wants to believe it. Chris waits until Stiles hesitantly nods his head before he uses just enough pressure to move Stiles back down. “Roll over for me. I want to see your ass.” 

Stiles is easy for him, flipping onto his front and away from the vulnerableness Chris cut into him with his words. Chris let's him hide because if he doesn't, he knows Stiles will need to stop altogether.  

“You’ve been so good this week. Working so hard at school and practicing with me.” Chris speaks quietly as he strokes his hand down Stiles's back twice before resting both hands on his pert little ass. “Everything you have, you work for, and I'm proud of you.” 

He can feel Stiles turning his face into the bunched up sheets, letting out a choked noise. Chris's thumbs find Stiles's cleft and pull the cheeks apart enough to reveal his entrance, tight and dusky. “That's it.” 

Stiles shifts restlessly, losing some of his restraint, until Chris says, “Hands up, baby. Hold still for me.” 

Chris bites Stiles's left cheek first, not too hard, but enough to know it'll leave an impression. The way Stiles's ass flexes in his hands, leg jerking in response, pulls a pleased sound out of Chris. 

He's so hard it hurts where he's still wearing his own jeans, but that can wait. Stiles is more important. 

He kisses along the dimples at the crest of Stiles's buttocks, tonguing them with intent before he licks down the center slowly. Chris holds Stiles open when he reaches his entrance and traces the rippled flesh, groaning when Stiles pushes back just a little and his muscle flutters in invitation. 

He pulls back and says, “That's one.” The warning clear to Stiles, reminding him that he is supposed to keep still. 

Stiles whines. “I'm sorry. I'll be good. Let me be good for you.” His face is turned to the side now, hands twisted in the sheets. 

Chris kisses him in acceptance, open mouthed as he runs the flat of his tongue against Stiles. The muscle starts to loosen already, no doubt Stiles willing himself to relax so he can open as quickly as possible. Chris presses the tip inside, pushing saliva around to get him good and wet. 

“You're so ripe for it.” Chris mumbles, always in awe of just how responsive Stiles is to his touch. Already, Stiles is loose enough that Chris can slide a finger inside and let it drag back out slowly. “You want it any way you can have it, would do anything for me.” 

Stiles shudders when he presses a second finger inside. Chris needs to get the lube because he doesn't want to hurt his boy like this, but it can wait a moment longer. He can feel the way Stiles's body shivers and spasms at the intrusion. Holding his fingers there, Chris licks around them and at the small space between them where he's pressing Stiles open bit by bit. 

Stiles whimpers and half formed pleas are Chris's world, shooting straight to his cock as he listens to his boy beg. He hasn't even done more than glance his fingers over Stiles's prostate three times and he's already a quivering mess, asking for more, needing more. Needing Chris. 

He pulls back and removes his fingers so he can reach for the tube of lube from his bedside table. After dropping it to the mattress, he quickly yanks his shirt over his head and unbuckles his belt so he can undo his fly. The pressure that had been trapping his cock disappears and Chris groans at the relief. 

Stiles’s back is long and curved where his ass tilts up, knees spread on the bed. It’s obscene and all his. Chris strokes his cock a couple times as he lets Stiles wait for his next move. The anticipation is for both of them. With his free hand, he grabs the lube and flicks the lid open. It’s cold when he pours it directly onto his cock, stealing his breath and making him groan until it warms as he spreads it over his skin. 

Then he’s leaning down with one hand braced on the bed. Chris rubs the tip of his cock up and down Stiles’s ass crack. Every time it passes over Stiles’s entrance, he pushes in just a little. 

“Please,” Stiles asks. His head is turned to the side. “Put it in me, please, Daddy.”

Kissing the middle of his shoulders, Chris uses his thumb to pop the head of his cock inside Stiles’s eager ass. “I’ve got you, baby.” He strokes all the way in steadily as Stiles whimpers and pushes back, then he pulls out so he can add more lube. He spreads the liquid over his fingers to warm it up before pushing them inside to give Stiles a little more of a stretch. 

Once his boy is good and wet, Chris fucks back in, hard. He grinds in without pulling out and presses his forehead against Stiles’s shoulders as he shudders at the tight feel. It’s good, it’s always so good. He moans when Stiles’s clenches around him and whines. 

Right, Chris has a plan.

So he gets his knees under him and pulls Stiles up by the hips. The change in angle has Chris pushing in deeper on each stroke. “That’s it, baby, c’mon.” He slams in over and over. 

Stiles’s is propped on his elbows, head bent down and hands twisted in the sheet. “M-more,” the word is stuttered with the jerk of his body, each thrust Chris gives shoving him around. 

“Use the headboard,” Chris pants the words out. He shuffles forward so Stiles doesn’t have to stretch out too far to get his palms against the headboard where he can push back without sliding too much. 

It takes everything in Chris to stop moving, but the desperate cry Stiles lets out is worth it. He cups Stiles’s hips in both hand lightly, relishing in the feel of his muscles working as Stiles fucks back onto his cock, grinding and looking for that perfect angle. 

Stiles can’t keep his mouth shut, moaning incoherent noises and half-formed words. Finally he gets out, “touch me, touch me, please. Please!” 

Chris groans at the plea, the way Stiles is taking his pleasure from him but not taking  _ too _ much. “So good, baby, so fucking good.” He tightens his hold on Stiles and holds him still so his cock is buried all the way inside. 

Freeing one hand, he takes wraps his fingers around Stiles’s aching cock. He doesn’t give much pressure. “Don’t come yet.” He’s close himself. 

Stiles shakes his head quickly, “‘M not, won’t.” He’s panting and spasming around Chris’s cock. His arms are shaking with the effort not to move, and Chris rewards him with a slow, teasing stroke. Stiles groans deeply. 

The tip of his cock is soaked with precome, dripping down onto the mattress. Chris rubs the slick around with his fingers and massages the head. His boy is turned on, all for him and what they do together. Chris grinds his hips in, his own need shoring up in his balls. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Chris growls as he lets go of Stiles and pushes him down flat to the bed. “Gonna come in you, make you mine.”

“I’m yours, always.” Stiles keeps himself still, using the headboard again. Each time Chris pulls back, he’s tightening up around him, milking him so perfectly. “Do it, do it, do it,” he chants breathily. “Come in me. Yours.”

Chris wraps his arms around Stiles’s torso and holds on tight as the orgasm rips through him. One hand pulling Stiles’s back so they’re as close as they physically can be, and the other curved around Stiles’s chest where his heart beats frantically. His vision dims around the edges as he comes deep inside Stiles. 

“Stiles,” he pants the word out, kissing along his boy’s shoulders and neck while he jerks inside, aftershocks wracking his body. “Baby.”

Stiles squirms in his arms, tipping his head back to press against Chris. “Daddy,” he pleads quietly, with one hand coming up to wrap around Chris’s forearm. 

“Mm, yeah.” Chris nuzzles Stiles’s temple before reaching down to take Stiles back in hand. He doesn’t move to pull out, knows how much Stiles likes it like this. 

Chris would like to push his fingers inside, play with his rim and tease his prostate. Instead, he concentrates on stroking his boy off, the right pressure and the write rhythm as he softens inside. 

“Come for me, baby,” Chris nips at the corner of Stiles’s jaw. His other hand reaches down to cup Stiles’s balls so he can feel the tightness there, feel it when they spasm as he shoots over his knuckles. 

It’s gorgeous. 

Stiles cries out and his back arches, nearly causing him to knock Chris in the head with the force of his orgasm. But Chris deftly rolls so he slips out and Stiles can starfish on his back. 

Chris shucks his jeans off the rest of the way, kicking them to the end of the bed while Stiles gets his breath back. When he is done, he curls up against his side and hugs him close. “Everything good?” He smiles softly at the dazed look on Stiles’s face.

A nod, and Stiles murmurs, “So good.” His lashes flutter and he lets out a contented sigh. 

“Two minutes, then you are drinking some water,” Chris gently reminds Stiles he can’t fall asleep. He pushes his fingers through Stiles’s sweaty hair. “I love you.”

Stiles smile widens, but his eyes stay shut. “Love you too.”

They lie there until Chris counts two minutes. He can tell Stiles is on the verge of sleep with the way his breath has turned even and deep, but he kisses his mouth to rouse him. “Up, baby.”

“Ugh, fine,” Stiles grouses mildly. He lets Chris push and pull him up off the bed until they’re in the bathroom. Once he’s had a glass of water from the tap, he looks more alert. “Thank you.”

Chris boxes him in against the sink, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Any time, baby.”

Stiles drops his forehead to Chris’s shoulder and sighs, “I still need to finish that essay.”

“Yeah, but I need to make dinner too.” Chris holds him in his arms. “I’ll make your favorite while you work, okay?”

“Deal.” Stiles looks up, smiling. 

Chris kisses him to seal it. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna come hang out with me on Tumblr, I'm [here](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).


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